


Durban Skies

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: The Death of Draco Malfoy [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Durban Skies, M/M, Morocco - Freeform, The Death Of Draco Malfoy, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's up to you to create your own destiny.</p><p>The final piece to this puzzle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Durban Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Well, we've reached this point. The actual DEATH of Draco Malfoy. Endless thanks to my friend and muse of all things, Unkissed.
> 
> For Theodore, Never forget how much Draco loves you.

It is a Thursday afternoon when you first sense it—The threads of your life slowly unraveling like a frayed and forgotten sweater. You are sixty-seven years old and you feel like you have accumulated more living than any one person should be allotted but you aren’t ready to let go.

 

It is a Thursday afternoon when you turn to Theodore in your bed and suggest that you take a trip for old times sake.

 

“Let’s go somewhere.” You say this as you lean over the other man and whisper in his ear with a slight rasp that smells faintly of old coffee and stale nicotine.

 

“Now?” Theodore’s eyes snap open as he speaks and when he sets his piercing gaze on you it feels just as owning and intense as it did the very first time you met, so very many years ago.

 

“Well, maybe not _right_ now.” You reply with a wry grin and a sharp nip to the fleshy nub still within your reach.

 

There was a time when Thursday signaled a shift in the balance of your lives. When, just for one day, your roles would twist and morph into something wicked and wildly different. A long time ago Theodore had come to you honestly and openly to help him counterbalance the surge of turmoil that lie within him. At the time had been unable to assimilate the notion of love that was not twisted with pain and it had taken him years to work through it. For that one simple day of the week you were not Draco and Theodore, you were something else, and you took on your newly appointed role with as much fervor as you did everything else in your life.

 

Of course, the basic need for what Thursdays symbolized eventually faded away but you never quite let go of the roles that you both chose to portray, even if they did soften and reshape over time.

 

Currently Thursdays were about lazy, early morning romps beneath the sheets, although if that were more out of need to take it easy on aging bones and tired muscles, neither of you would never ever admit.

 

“Where would you like to go?” It was some time later when Theodore posed the question to you with genuine interest. It had been a long time since you had ventured away together and if Theodore had learned anything at all from being at your side all of these years it was that you never underestimated a Malfoy. Especially blond haughty ones who always got what they wanted.

 

You stared up at the ceiling as you contemplated the question for a moment, a half-spent cigarette dangling loosely from between your lips. You had crisscrossed the entire globe with the man at your side, many times over, but you wanted _this_ time to be special. “Morocco.” You said finally and then you smiled because the long-ago memories of mint tea and white sand were still some of the greatest you possessed.

 

“Mm sounds heavenly.” Theodore replied with a matching smile, and then you were both consumed with memories of the warmest sun and the brightest stars.

 

∞

 

“I don’t remember it being so… _young_.” You were standing on a balcony overlooking the plaza below, aging hands curled around the railing and your nose wrinkling just so as you spoke.

 

Of course, the last time the two of you had been to Morocco you had been a fair bit younger, and while the beauty of the city that was lain out before you was still breathtaking, it was somehow a very different place.

 

“Maybe we’re just old.” Theodore’s voice was quietly amused beside you and you didn’t have to look to know that he was grinning as he spoke.

 

“Speak for yourself old man.” The corners of your mouth quirked with a smirk as you stood there with your arm caught around his waist, watching the sunset beyond the horizon and although you both could be considered ‘old men’ by societies standards, you somehow felt timeless.

 

It is easy to lose yourself in a Mediterranean paradise and you found it exceedingly simple to slip back into the culture that you had long ago left behind. By high-sun the following day you were fully immersed in the sights and the sensations that your one-time paradise had to offer. In the marketplace you stopped for mint tea and Bastella and although Theodore pretended not to notice, you could not help but take in every moment as if it were your last.

 

It was later in the afternoon when you shed your shoes and stepped barefoot onto the warming white sand and when you followed him right down to the water without hesitation, Theodore could no longer ignore the fact that there was _something_ unsaid.

 

“What is it?” Theodore’s words were quiet beside you as you stood there, ankle deep in ocean water. You had never once dipped more than a toe in the water the entire time that Theodore had known you and to witness it at that moment was jarring, to say the least.

 

“What do you mean?” You turned to cast a sidelong view at him; your brow arching softly in a question that he wasn’t buying.

 

“You know what I mean, Malfoy.” Theodore pressed against you and plastered determination across his face because suddenly the fear of the unknown was pressing in around him and slowly suffocating the joys of reminiscing about the beauties of your past together.

 

“I just figured it was time.” You shrugged and offered him a special smile, the ones that you reserved specifically for Theodore alone.

 

“I see.” he sounded dubious at best and he studied your features for a long time, quietly marveling at how kind time had been to you. “Well, in that case, let’s make it count.” He sprung to life suddenly and clamped a hand around your wrist before you could protest. He laughed softly as he tugged you farther into the ocean, effectively ruining your clothing like you were twenty-two all over again. “Some things never change.” You smiled and shook your head, your arms encircling him as you stood there, waist-deep in breaking waves in the middle of a beach that signified _so_ many things in both of your lives.

 

“Never forget how much I love you.” Your words were murmured against Theodore’s parted lips so quietly that they were almost unheard. Almost.

 

Theodore wanted to press the subject but realized that it didn’t matter. If you had something to tell him, you would.

 

In your own time and definitely in your own way.

 

Instead he chose to focus on the moment and the fact that Draco Malfoy was soaked from head to toe in ocean water, which was _definitely_ a memory that he would not soon forget.

 

∞

 

Theodore is straddling your lap on a hotel room bed when he asks you, “Do you remember the first time?”  And you have to laugh because honestly, how could you ever forget?

 

“Like it was yesterday.” You reply smoothly as your fingertips trace over his bent knees at your sides.

 

“I was mortified you know, and you just let me do it too.” He laughs as he reaches up and covers his face with the palms of his hands in a gesture that is terribly endearing to you, head shaking soft enough to barely upset his fringe.

 

“It was your own fault, really. You should have known better.” You smirk up at him and slide an open palm beneath your head, slate gaze never leaving him.

 

“I certainly do now.” His reply is breathy and predatory and it never ceases to amaze you how he can make your pulse quicken in a matter of moments, even after all of this time.

 

When his fingertips catch the hem of your shirt you exchange a matching grin and when those same agile fingers strip away the shirt and toss it over the bed you sigh softly because this is _still_ everything that you could ever want.

 

So many years have passed since that time you spent together in Morocco and you feel them all dissolve into nothing as he traces over your bare skin. His fingertips still manage to leave hellfire in their wake and although they have paid worship to the scars that still remain on your body countless times, the significance of the moment is not lost on either of you.

 

“Sometimes I still can’t believe that you’re mine.” Theodore’s words twist your heart so painfully that a faint whimper escapes you. You have made it one of your life’s missions to never let him feel anything less than completely loved, and although you know that you can never truly erase the ghosts of the past, the rawness behind his admission still leaves you feeling like there was something more you could have done.

 

“Before I even knew it and long before I could accept it.” The knowing smile that passes between you is watery and you don’t have it in you to mind because the words you speak hold as much meaning now as they did forty years ago.

 

Of course, this time around the sex is a tad slower than it was when you were both virile young men on the cusp of your entire lives, but it suits you and the moment and you could never think it anything less than perfect. The night doesn’t linger nearly long enough for you, and before you have finished worshiping each other’s bodies the sun is peeking up over the horizon once again.  There are so many things that you are thankful for, but none of them as much as Theodore. He was the first real thing you got right in your life and although it took you a long time to get there you hold no regrets because you’ve seen yourself through his eyes and you understand everything.

 

∞

“Can we stay here forever?” You’re lying on a blanket beneath a large striped umbrella when he poses the question to you and although you know that he is half-joking, it makes your heart still all the same.

 

“I’m not sure we ever really left.” You reply just as simply and the weight of his head against your shoulder is like the very best part of you.

 

The days you spend together in Morocco pass you by like a handful of minutes and although you would very much like to make his request a reality, there are still a few things you need to do first.

 

∞

 

It is a Monday morning when the reality of your mortality hits you full force and sends you reeling. You are sitting regal and straight in a high-backed chair in the sitting room of the home you have made with Theodore. There is a white haired man standing a short distance away, partially shielded behind a large easel. The delicate brush in his hand sweeps over the magically altered canvas before him in broad and meaningful strokes and every time he peers up at you his bottom lip catches between his teeth because he takes pride in his work and you have paid him so handsomely that he wants to get it _just_ right.

 

For a wizard, having your portrait painted is something of a morbid and vain tradition. It not only signals the next stage of your life, or lack thereof, but also your unwillingness to ever fully let go. You have paid this man well to imbibe your own portrait with as much of your spirit as humanely possible because you of all people can never let go. Not really. You sit there in that chair for hours on end and when your bones are stiff and your muscles are sore from lack of movement, you sit longer still because you refuse to give in. You know that what is coming will be hard for those around you and you want to give them the best possible representation of yourself, which is why you push yourself like you do.  The aches and pains that eat at your insides are easy to ignore when you think about those that you will leave behind because you are not a stranger to pain and no amount of it will ever replace those that you choose to love.

 

You don’t want to die, you don’t think there has ever been a moment in your life where you have ever _truly_ wanted that for yourself, but you know that it is inevitable, even for a survivor like you. There was a time when you thought your life would never be your own and when you finally did take control of it you vowed to live every moment to the fullest. And you did.

 

No regrets.

 

∞

 

“I have something for you.” You’re sitting across a table from him when the words come tumbling out of your mouth and when he looks up at you questioningly your resolve crumbles for the briefest of moments.

 

“A present?” His mouth quirks with a pleased smile as he drops his fork expectantly and your heart breaks just a little bit because this is anything but fair.

 

“Of sorts.” You say and then you place your fork down and push your chair back slowly.  “Come on.” You say quietly, holding out your hand for him to take, which he does, without hesitation.

 

You lead him through the house that feels too quiet towards the sitting room and the packaged gilded frame leaning against the wall is like the largest white elephant in the room that is impossible to ignore.

 

“What is…” His words die in his throat as cerulean eyes land on the package in the corner and his brows draw together with realization that he doesn’t want to face. “Draco, no.” His head shakes almost as violently as his voice and although you want nothing more than to banish the portrait and take him in your arms, it is important that you make him understand first.

 

“Listen to me.” Your fingers curl gently around his forearms and you turn him away from the portrait and catch his gaze.

 

“No, you listen to **me.** Don’t you dare even _think_ of leaving me again Draco. I won’t stand for it this time.” His bottom lip quivers as he grinds out what he means to say between clenched teeth and even though he already knows by the look in your eyes that there is nothing he can do, he fights still because he has to.

 

“I could never leave you, don’t you know that by now?” You smile softly at him and trace a fingertip across his jawline, which causes his eyes to shutter unwillingly, as if by command. 

 

“Then why does it feel like my insides are slowly being ripped out?” He gazes up at you from behind watery blue eyes that fracture your very soul. You want to tell him that everything will be okay, but how can you when you know exactly how you’d feel if this situation were reversed.

 

“That,” You say, rising a shaking finger and pointing at the portrait against the far wall. “is me never leaving you. This,” You say, laying your open palm on his chest over his heart. “is me never leaving you.” Your voice is surprisingly calm considering how you feel on the inside and you credit every bit of it to the strength that Theodore gives you and little else.

 

“I wont let you go. Please don’t go.” The tears that escape the corners of his eyes are like tiny shards of glass that embed themselves in your chest, each one a fresh wound whose pain is cathartic and absolute.

 

When you fold him up in your arms he feels so small somehow and despite all of the borrowed strength you find yourself crying for the first time since your mother left this world for the next. You stand just like this for a long time holding him together while he silently falls apart. You know it’s not fair, Circe you know it’s not, but you are hardly surprised.

 

You always knew that death would catch up to you one day.

 

“How long do we have?” His muffled voice comes some time later, after the tears had dried up and the shock felt just a little bit more numbing.

 

“Not nearly enough.” You reply with a quiet sigh and you rest your head atop his and shut your eyes and breath in this moment like it’s one more in a series of lasts.

 

Later, you will sit down with him on the sofa by the fireplace and explain to him everything that you already know. You will repeat everything that your healers have already said to you and do your best to make him understand that this is an unavoidable fact of life, no matter how much you both wish it wasn’t. You’ve been unapologetic and reckless with your life and despite your keen ability to cheat death, it has indeed, finally caught up to you. It is not your desire to linger in a life of half-living at the mercy of pointless treatments. Cancer is still a very much incurable disease; even by wizarding standards and you are determined to leave this life behind on _your_ terms.

 

The afternoon bleeds into evening around you and you hardly notice because he is all that you see. You _need_ him to come to terms with this because if he cannot, you are not sure how you are going to manage to hold it together.

 

When you lie down in bed beside him you are both weary and numb from too much crying and too many emotions. Theodore doesn’t sleep at all that day, instead he lies beside you and watches you sleep and he thinks back to every single time he’s done the exact same thing before now. Even though you are both aged and old he still sees you as that smooth little boy who slept beside him in his bed as a child and it kills him inside because he never dreamed that loving you could hurt as much as it does right now. He feels guilty every time he lights a cigarette but is too selfish to stop and so he leaks silent tears instead. By the time you wake up again he looks older than he ever has before and the blue in his eyes is faded just a little bit. You don’t know it yet but when you are gone for real they will fade to the color of dirty water and it will be because you took his will with him when you left and he will have no reason to care anymore.

 

∞

 

“You can do this.” Theodore’s reassuring voice is soft in your ear as you walk beside him up the cobbled path leading up to Malfoy manor towards the massive front doors.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” You reply thinly and when he gives your arm a faint squeeze you smile despite the turmoil warring deep within you.

 

You are saved from responding as the doors open before you can knock. “Dad! Uncle Theo!” Your son is now a grown man and smiling at you both like he is eight years old all over again. You will never grow tired of seeing that wonder in his eyes and even after all of this time he still represents the very best part of you. Of you both.

 

“Hey there you guys are! We thought you got lost or something.” Albus pops his head out beside Scorpius and grins widely before stepping aside to usher you both inside. 

 

Being inside the walls of Malfoy manor no longer has a hold over you like it once did and it has been a long time since you’ve been _this_ apprehensive in your family home. You know that Theodore was right, Scorpius and Albus deserved to know, but it still did not make it any easier. You followed them through the entry hall towards the sunroom; or rather, what was once the sunroom. When you had handed over the deed to Malfoy estate to Albus and your son you knew that if anyone was capable of making this old place a home, it was these two, and you had been right. Over the years they have stripped away all of the ghosts hiding within the aging décor of the manor and made it into something that they could call their own. Long-gone were the garish displays of wealth and aristocracy that had once dripped from every surface, replaced instead with modern living spaces, a lot of love, and maybe just a little bit of childish whimsy.

 

The sunroom in question was now a massive open space with the entire south wall dedicated to floor to ceiling windows, complete with glass French doors that led out to a newly erected deck that overlooked the lake in the distance. Traditional furniture was absent in favor of a vast array of comfortable (enough) looking floor pillows and low cut tabletops. Scorpius explained that they had modeled the room after a particular hotel in Japan that they had stayed at while on tour. Of course you would never tell them that it looked more like a children’s play tent than anything else, but somehow you think that might have been the entire point.

 

It is after you are settled in when Scorpius looks at you from across the table and demand that you “Spill it,” and you cannot help but laugh because he is more like you than he would ever care to admit.

 

When it comes down to it, trying to explain to your son that you are not long for this world is not an easy thing to do and for as many times as you falter Theodore is right there to help you back up and you have never been as thankful for him as you are in that moment.

 

By the time Scorpius finally understands what it is you are trying to tell him his skin is splotched with a red flush that you are not sure is from anger or anxiety. Albus looks ghostly white beside him and is sitting stalk-still, unsure of what to say. Never in a million years could they have guessed that _this_ was the reason that you had wanted to pay them a visit and although they are too old to believe that their parents will live forever, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

 

“But…” Scorpius is stuck with words in his throat that will not dislodge and he is unsure if he wants to scream or cry or just break something to make himself feel better. You are his father, the strongest man he has ever known and you were never supposed to leave him. You promised him that when he was three years old and he expects you to honor that agreement, reasonable or not.

 

“I’ve commissioned a portrait, to help you all in the transition after I’ve gone.” You say this as plainly as if you were ordering breakfast on a Sunday morning, which you instantly recognize as a mistake and Scorpius can only stare at you in abject horror because he cannot believe you can remain so bloody calm at a time like this.

 

“A portrait? Is that supposed to make me feel better? You come in here and just dump the fact that you’re dying on me and then follow up with a fucking portrait? Are you insane? In denial? Is this a joke, dad? Please tell me this is some sick twisted joke because I’ll forgive you if you just take it back.” Scorpius had risen out his seat without even realizing it and his fists were clenched and shaking because he was absolute shit at containing his emotions, unlike his father. He wanted to scream and tear his hair out because this couldn’t possibly be happening.

 

“Scor, please.” Albus rested a reassuring hand on Scorpius’ arm and tried to coax him back into his seat, but ultimately knew that this was something that he would have to come to terms with on his own. When Albus’ own father had died in the line of duty there had been no warning. Of course it was a devastating blow, but it was something that was unavoidable because they had been unaware. With Draco it felt worse, as if knowing what was coming was more unbearable because you were powerless to stop it from happening. Albus wanted to cry for Scorpius and for his father and uncle Theo too but he held it together because now was not the time for falling apart.

  
He suspected that would come later, when they were alone.

 

“I just…I need a minute.” Scorpius barely managed to get the words out before he was stumbling out the open French doors onto the deck. Albus scrambled to follow after him because he knew better than anyone else how Scorpius dealt with pain and he didn’t want him to be alone.

 

 

When you are alone with Theodore you heave a heavy sigh and your eyes shutter as he rubs soothing circles on your spine through your clothing.  “He’ll be okay, he just needs time.” Theodore stood up and offered you a hand, which you took without hesitation and when he led you out the same door the boys had disappeared out of moments before you breathed in the familiar air of Wiltshire and more than anything else you wished you could make this easier for your family.

 

No words were spoken for a long time as you stood there beside Theodore, both of you consumed with silent torment of your own doing. You squinted as you watched the distant figures of two men down by the edge of the lake, one blond and one raven-haired. “Remind you of anyone you know?” Theodore rested his head against your shoulder as he spoke and when you shared a laugh it lifted the weight of living that was bearing down on your shoulders just a little bit.

 

You knew that your son would come around eventually and you would never begrudge him this time to collect himself and come to terms with all that you had explained to him. When he was ready he would come to you and you would work through the rest together, just like you always have, and then you would be ready.

 

∞

 

The chorus of voices all around you is rising with each verse and you know that you have never felt as happy and as loved as you do in this moment. Everyone that has played an important part of your life is here to celebrate, every smiling, singing face, a reminder of the closely woven fabric that makes up your entire life. You are overcome with the outpouring of sentiment and you don’t even mind the fact that you can hear Pansy’s screeching banshee-esque voice careening above the others and purposely singing the wrong words.

 

When the singing stops the silence is deafening and your ears are ringing as you scramble to commit this moment to permanent memory.

 

“Make a wish, Draco.” Theodore is whispering in your ear and you smile and let your eyes fall shut because yes, the sound of his voice alone still does things to you.

 

“I already have everything I want.” You smile up at him and his grin falters just a little bit as he swipes inconspicuously at an errant tear at the corner of his eye. 

 

“Then blow out your damn candles.” He says with a shaky laugh and when he gives your shoulder a squeeze you nod and do as requested and the cheers and applause that follow warm your soul from the inside out.

 

It is a Friday evening when you realize that you will never be more ready to take the next step in your life than you are in that moment. It is your sixty-eighth birthday and friends and family who love you for all of their own reasons surround you. Never in your wildest imagination could you ever have believed that you would be worthy of so much love and respect. The most important lesson you think you have learned is that it is up to you to create your own destiny. Life is what you make it and you think that despite your rocky start, you have done all right.  

 

By the time all of your guests had wished you well and said their goodbyes it is late and only Scorpius and Albus still remain. “Breakfast tomorrow morning, yeah?” Scorpius folds you up in a hug that makes you feel exceedingly small. Yours was never an overly affectionate relationship and when he hugs you now, as a grown man, you still find yourself marveling at how grown up he is.

 

“Tomorrow.” You say with a smile and when they step into the floo together the last you see of them is their grins and a singular wave.

 

When you are alone with Theodore you thank him for the party and you sit with him for a long while on the sofa by the fireplace. You drink coffee out of well-used mugs and smoke cigarettes that were never meant to save you from anything at all. He leans against you and does everything that he can to preserve this moment because he knows that it is all going to end before he can stop it and he’s not ready to let go.  By the time he leads you to bed you are weary from more than just sleep and you cannot help but sigh quietly as your lie back against your pillows.

 

“One world was not enough, for two like me and you.” You murmur quietly in the darkness and when he stifles a dry sob beside you, you cannot help but smile despite the selfishness of your actions.

 

It is a long time before he gathers enough of himself together that he can speak, and even then it is a shaky collection of tear-stained words. You don’t mean to be so cruel, you know exactly what these words signify to him but you cannot help but think that after you are gone he will be able to appreciate this moment, perhaps even find solace in it.

 

“The universe itself shall be our immortality.” His words are soft and wet and they make you smile despite the weight of the moment. He _gets_ you, he always has and not even death can erase that.

 

By the time Theodore drifts off to sleep the sun is just peeking over the horizon that lies beyond the bedroom window that he has shared with you for twenty-five years.  His arms are wrapped firmly around you because he isn’t ready to let go and even though you are cold and have already left, he cannot say goodbye. Some people might think him morbid for sleeping with a corpse but Theodore Nott has never much concerned himself with what other people think about him. He has loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you and has spent a great deal of his life denying that love, only to have it returned to him when he least expected it. You were his greatest accomplishment; his _Achilles_ and his _Alexander_ and he has no idea how to live without you now because he has forgotten how.  The night bleeds into dewy morning and is eventually followed by afternoon, closely trailed by another nightfall and still he cannot will himself to let you go. He knows he should get up and firecall someone, but he is paralyzed by his sorrow and so he drifts in and out of hallowed consciousness and pretends the world outside this bed does not exist because he is afraid of the solitude of loneliness and what it will mean when he has to face the fact that you are gone.

 

_Never forget how much I love you…_

∞

 

 

“How many people showed up?”

 

The question is posed to Theodore as he sits in a chair beside a gilded frame hanging on a wall in Malfoy manor and he wants to roll his eyes because only someone like Draco Malfoy would bother to ask how many people came to his bloody funeral.

 

“Hundreds. The streets were lined with mourners. The entire world, wizard and fashion alike, came to a screeching halt. Christian Dior himself returned from the grave to throw flowers on your grave.”

 

“Tsk. You shouldn’t joke about the dead Theodore, it’s terribly bad taste.” Draco’s face is staring at him from within its frame and although his painted expression remains unmoved, Theodore has seen that look a thousand times on the real Draco’s face before and he knows that the blond is full of shit.

 

“Then don’t ask me questions you already know the answers to.” Theodore smirked up at portrait Draco and leaned back in his chair and it was almost enough that he could pretend this was any other conversation over tea any other morning of his life.

 

It hadn’t taken him nearly as long to tear open the package that concealed Draco’s portrait after he’d gone as he had thought it would, and truth be told it had been done in a moment of hysteria when the weight of being left alone in this life had started to devour him. By the time Theodore had come to terms with saying goodbye to Draco two days had passed and he could no longer keep Draco all to himself. Of course there was speculation and even a nasty tidbit by that old bat Skeeter in the Prophet about what a morbid fuck Theodore Nott was, but it didn’t matter to him, although portrait Draco did rather enjoy when Theodore read the story to him one afternoon.

 

He knew it wasn’t healthy to spend as much time with portrait Draco as he did, and he also knew that it wasn’t _really_ his Draco, no matter how much magic was soaked into every brush stroke, but it was something he could cling to and that made each moment a little bit easier to swallow for him. 

 

When things got really bad he would lie in their bed that was now just his bed and cry himself awake. He would write depressing poetry and smoke enough cigarettes for the both of them and curse the fates for not dealing him the same blow as Draco. 

 

When it was good he spent time with Scorpius and Albus and they reminisced about Draco’s finer moments and for just a little while he could fake a passable living façade like he’d been doing it all of his life.

 

 

∞

 

Theodore Nott is sixty-eight years old when he steps onto a Mediterranean beach for the last time. He doesn’t look a day over fifty and he feels like he’s lived three lifetimes.  Tucked safely beneath his arm is a filigree urn that is intertwined with delicate inscriptions that read like Oscar Wilde. His pace is unhurried, perhaps because of his age, or maybe because he is in no hurry to reach his final destination. When he reaches the edge of the water he pauses where he stands and looks out over the soft roil of breaking ocean waves. He lets his eyes slide shut and he breathes in the cool salty air and he feels like he is home. With his free hand he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two cigarettes, which he lights with the ease of fingers that have had years of practice.  He inhales deeply from the pair of matching cigarettes and watches the sun that is slowly setting over the horizon and the brilliant display of reds and yellows is almost enough to make him feel alive again.  

 

“Maybe we never left.” He murmurs to himself and when he smiles his eyes are watery with tears that cannot be contained. When he sinks into the sand to his knees he winces because his bones are weak and not cared for as well as they should be. He sets the urn down beside him and inhales deeply from the pair of cigarettes again, eyes shining in the waning sunlight. He knows what he is doing is unhealthy and probably more than a little unbalanced. Scorpius and Albus had all but begged him to stay in London with them but Theodore wouldn’t hear it. He was determined to make the trip to Morocco one more time with Draco, and so he had. He glanced down at the silver urn at his feet and frowned at it, hating the blond for just a moment for leaving him to stumble aimlessly through life alone. “I hate you for leaving me.” He hissed behind a ragged sigh and then he kicked feebly at the urn, which toppled over in the sand towards the water.

 

Theodore watched the urn while he smoked his two cigarettes, dull blue eyes fixated on the silver ornament as it swayed and rocked with each breaking wave. He was torn between amusement and despair and in the end he laughed like a lonely old man because this entire thing was so typical Draco that it was disturbing. 

 

“Is it finally time?” Theodore tossed away the half-smoked cigarettes and scrambled to his knees, ignoring the aching pain that shot up the fronts of his shins. He inched closer to the urn, which had made its way farther  into the water and by the time he finally had the stupid thing in his grasp he was well and fully soaked with ocean water and he laughed harder still.  

 

Theodore lay back on the wet sand with Draco clutched safely to his chest and he stared up at the sky and imagined he could see Draco’s constellation from where he was. He didn’t even notice the beach around him empty down to nothing but wildlife and he didn’t even feel the temperature drop to a chilly contrast to its daylight counterpart. At some point in the night during his intense stargazing session he had drifted off to sleep and now he was being rudely awoke before he was ready to give up the dream.

 

“Wake up old man.” The voice that drifted into his subconscious was vaguely familiar and he followed it and when cold ocean water splashed his face he opened his eyes.

 

“Bout time. I thought you were going to sleep the entire night on the beach like a vagrant.” Theodore blinked several times up at Draco who was sitting beside him and he knew he was either dreaming or dead.

 

“I’m dead, aren’t I? And this is my hell. Being tormented in the afterlife by a Malfoy on a beach.” Theodore stared at Draco wide-eyed, unable to assimilate him into his waking mind. This wasn’t aged Draco as Theodore had last known him, this was young, virile Draco that he had fallen in love with all over again on this very same beach.

 

“Don’t be so fucking morbid, Theodore. Death is merely a matter of perspective. Come on.” Draco stood up and held out a hand for him to take and when he reached up to slide his hand into the blonde’s he didn’t care if this was a dream or not, so long as he never woke up.

 

Theodore followed Draco out into the water and held onto him so tightly that he might never let go, and although they were nothing more than a reflection of their younger selves on the surface of the water, they would always be together because maybe Draco hadn’t left Theodore after all.

 

_This is me, never leaving you._

 

∞

The official story in the Prophet is that Theodore Nott succumbed to the elements while on holiday in Morocco at the ripe young age of sixty-eight. He was found on a beach in the early morning hours cradling an empty urn that had previously contained the ashes of Draco Malfoy. That senile old hag Rita Skeeter will be the first to tell you that she had always thought that Nott fellow was a little ‘off.’ Even back at Hogwarts when she had still been in the field doing _investigative_ journalism. She is fairly certain that Theodore Nott had done something questionable with the deceased Malfoy’s ashes prior to his demise, although what that something might be, she is not saying. –At least not before her new tell-all book **_The Malfoy Legacy-The rise and fall of one of Britain’s last pureblood families_** is released next year.

 

Lucius Malfoy is currently rolling over in his crypt.

 

∞

 

Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Severus Potter have had more than their share of loss. No one is ever prepared to lose a parent, even when that parent tries his hardest to make it easy for you. Losing Uncle Theo was a devastating blow for Scorpius and Albus because he had always been their champion. The one person they could count on when they knew everyone else in their joined families would object. From the moment they met Theodore had supported their blossoming relationship and had helped shape Scorpius into the man he had become.  He may not have always known it, but he had been exceedingly lucky growing up and now more than ever, he missed the two men in his life that had always had his best interests at heart.

 

“It’s time.” Albus’ voice beside him roused him from his musings and he smiled and flung his arms around the other boy’s neck and kissed him impatiently.

 

“Let’s get this over with.” Scorpius muttered between kisses and when they finally parted they were both more than a little breathless because they were clearly stalling for time.

 

The walk down to the Library was a solemn one and when they entered the room Draco was waiting for them, gazing expectantly between the two of them.  “What’s happened?” he asked, taking a step closer to the edge of his frame and narrowing his eyes at Albus because he was a more susceptible target than Scorpius was.

 

Albus gave Scorpius’ hand a small squeeze and he sighed as he gazed up at his father’s portrait.  “It’s Uncle Theo.” Scorpius’ words were barely more than a dry whisper because he was still having difficultly with coming to terms with losing two parents in a relatively short amount of time.

 

“Oh, that.” His father’s portrait replied darkly and then waved a dismissive hand as if the news of Theodore’s passing was not new information.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scorpius blinked up at the painted version of his father, who only smirked smugly and shrugged a shoulder. 

 

The air of indifference shocked Scorpius more than it normally would and he snapped.  “Uncle Theo died alone. On a beach. And all you can do is shrug a shoulder? What’s the matter with you?” He felt fourteen years old all over again and all the teenage frustration that he had long since let go was back, tenfold. Scorpius knew that yelling at his father’s portrait was about as useful as screaming at the fates for resolution but he didn’t care.

 

Of course, portrait or not, Draco recognized that defiantly wild look in his son’s eyes and he held up a hand before he could say another word. “Who says he was alone?” Portrait Draco arched a haughty brow down at his son and smirked even more smugly, if that were even possible and when Scorpius only stared blankly up at him he chuckled softly from behind closed lips and turned and walked out of his portrait.

 

“Good talk, son.” It was the last thing that the portrait version of his father said to him before he disappeared from his frame and Scorpius couldn’t even be mad because it was his own fault for underestimating his father. Again.

 

It will take Scorpius a very long time before he fully understands the bond that Theodore and his father had shared, and although he feels much the same way about Albus it will be the things left unsaid by these two men that will open his eyes to the possibility of love transcending death itself and he will find peace in that knowledge. He will make his first and last trip to Morocco with Albus at his side and trudge across the very same beach that Theodore did before he followed Draco into forever. Together as one they will finally set Theodore free, the wind carrying away all of his anguish and loneliness with his ashes, deep into the bluest ocean either of them had ever seen.

  
Cerulean, if they had to wager a guess.

**Author's Note:**

> All snippets of Wilde spewed herein belong to the man himself. :D


End file.
